Without Leave
by fifflesgiggles
Summary: Tommy wasn't always the mess that he is now. Once, he was happy. He had a brother, a job he truly believed in, a girl ... Rated M for language and smut.
1. Dream

Eight long months of nothing. It isn't surprising. Even when he was by your side, he wasn't much of a talker. There was no reason to believe that should have changed when he went overseas. But still, you hoped. But that eventually faded.

There was an angry part of you that wanted to just say 'fuck him' and go hop on the first man you could find. But then the softer side would speak up. Remind you of how it felt to fall asleep in his arms, your combined body heat enough to make you sweat but not enough to separate you. Of the nearly orgasmic foot massages he would give you while both lounged around and watched movies all day, sharing a couple of pizzas. Man, could he eat. You never seemed to be able to keep the cupboards full enough. Now, after months apart, they seem far too bare.

The apartment still feels empty, your bed too large. You almost miss the wet towels that he'd leave on the bathroom floor, as much as they used to infuriate you. Or the way that he would leave empty food wrappers on the kitchen counter, even though the trash can was just feet away. And the way his sneakers stunk, you chuckle to yourself, so badly that you made him leave them outside.

Things are bad when even the shit that used to annoy the ever living hell out of you makes you nostalgic for his presence.

Sometimes, he comes to you in your dreams. The more pleasant ones have him whole, smiling that full-lipped grin that he reserves just for you before he nuzzles at your neck and pulls you into his embrace. The nightmares are something else. He stumbles in bloody, wounds on nearly every inch of skin, just silently watching you as he bleeds to death before you wake up sobbing, reaching out for a phantom that isn't there.

Deep down, you know he's okay. They don't notify girlfriends, only wives. But Pilar would have heard something if he wasn't, would have passed it along to you. It's a small comfort, but a comfort just the same.

* * *

"I love you." It's a whisper, so soft that you're sure it's a dream. You keep your eyes closed, holding onto the words and the feeling so tightly that your joints hurt. A tear falls before you can stop it, a lump in your throat. It is taking every fiber of your being to grab onto that feeling, that he's right there, to squeeze it tightly before you fully wake and the illusion disappears in a puff of smoke.

You scramble upright in the bed at his first touch, the back of his knuckles just brushing against your cheek. "Tommy?"

His lips quirk up into that grin that you love so much, the image stealing your breath away. "Yeah, babe, it's me."

How you can go from asleep to awake and pissed off in about five second is beyond you, but next thing you know, you're on your feet and hitting every surface of him you can reach, screaming. He barely flinches, just lets you flail and spew profanities at him until you collapse in his arms, sobbing. "Thank God, Tommy, oh thank God."

He shushes you, pulls your face into his chest and holds you until the front of his BDUs are soaked with your tears. It's an ugly cry, full of snot and red cheeks and undignified tears. But you're just so grateful he's home, safe and sound. There has been no feeling as beautiful as his hands in your hair, his breath warm on your skin as he just holds you and doesn't let go. You want to grip him tighter, want his skin under your nails, some evidence that he was there for fear that he'll just disappear again. The anger boils up again, you're suddenly so furious that you can't stand the sight of him. "Out."

"What?"

As much as it pains you, you push him away.

_How dare you?_ you want to scream.

_How dare you leave for eight months without a single fucking word and traipse back here like you were never gone?_ "Get out, Tommy." You're surprised at how even your voice is, despite the emotional roller coaster you've ridden since you woke.

"Babe." His voice is placating, maybe even close to pleading with you. But now that you know that he's safe and sound, you just want to rail against him until he feels the same pain that he put you through.

"GET THE FUCK OUT, TOMMY!" The first object you grab is a pillow, aiming it at his head but hitting his shoulder instead. When you go for the alarm clock, he holds his hands up in surrender. "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

"Alright, alright." His fingers rub against the stubble of his shaved head, looking genuinely anguished. Tommy looks like he's going to talk more but when you pull your arm back to throw your alarm clock at him, he shuts his mouth and drags his feet towards the doorway. His back is to you when he pauses, his voice barely a whisper when he speaks again. "I'm sorry, babe."

* * *

_It was a dream_. That's the first thought when you wake, yawning and padding into the kitchen to brew some much needed coffee. You pause mid-stretch when you notice the couch is in a little bit of disarray. And then remains of the last of your eggs, sitting in their carton on the kitchen counter. "Dammit, Tommy, the trash can is three feet away," you mutter with irritation, but you can't help the smile that it brings to your lips to see the evidence. Even his messy scrawl on the notepad you keep by the fridge, four simple letters, 'eggs' is enough to choke you up a bit. It's all evidence that it's real, he's home, that it wasn't some cruel dream.

You grab the coffee filters and grounds out of habit, grab the decanter to fill it with water when you notice it's already full. Such a stupid little thing shouldn't bring tears to your eyes, but it does. He made you coffee. Like he always used to.

The phone rings and you hurriedly wipe your eyes and sniffle once before answering. She doesn't even wait for you to speak, just shrieks "THEY'RE HOME!" in your ear loud enough that you have to pull the receiver away from your head.

"Morning Pilar," you chuckle.

"You should have seen the kids' faces when they walked into the kitchen and Manny was cooking them breakfast! It still smells like burned pancakes because they just wouldn't let him go."

You can't help the wide grin that spreads across your face. Little Manny and Maria are the sweetest kids you've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Their dad's absence had been hard on them, a lot of questions and a lot of tears. A lot of nights comforting Pilar on their couch while she cried into your shoulder. For them to have their father back gives you more joy than you would have thought. "I'm so happy for you guys, Pilar."

"You seen Tommy yet?"

"You could say that."

"What happened?"

You're half-tempted to make the coffee Irish, but resist and sigh instead. "Creeped in in the middle of the night."

"Oh did he now?" Her tone is suggestive, and you have to hold back a snort before you shoot coffee out your nose.

"I might have kicked him out," you mutter, twisting your fingers in the phone cord while you bite your lip.

Pilar laughs in your ear, a nearly giddy sound as you fight off a smile. You missed hearing that laugh from her, one that was free from worry and stress. She had her Manny back. Of course he would change her laugh. "Serves him right, staying quiet this whole time. You should make him wait eight months before you spread your legs for him again."

This time you actually snort, the abrupt sound turning into a full throated laugh. "I'll consider it."

"So barbeque, this afternoon? Just like old times?"

"Yeah, I'll bring the usual."

* * *

**A/N - A prompt. It all started with a little tumblr prompt. Something where Tommy is still a Marine? Maybe has a girl waiting for him to get home?**

**It spun off something completely different. I know I already have a Tommy/OC story out there, so I'm hoping that it doesn't detract from this or vice versa. But the idea brewed and I just love it. It took such a hold of me that as much as I've tried to sit down and write other things, I can't. Because I just have to get this story down on paper.**

**Review, follow, all that jazz. I love all of you guys.**


	2. Pie

**Quick A/N - Italics are flashbacks. That is all.**

_It's a juggle, getting all the food out of the car. Pilar had said that you didn't need to bring anything, really, just maybe some beer if you wanted to drink. But you were a guest, you couldn't show up empty handed, that's not how you were raised. Though, in hindsight, potato salad, coleslaw, cookies and a pie might have been overdoing it a bit. You had just got everything about stacked and balanced and were starting to make your way into the house when the pie started to fall. "No! No, no, no!"_

A hand appears out of nowhere, grabbing the pastry before it can plummet and then taking a hold of the bowl of potato salad. Hands relatively freer, you get your first look at the man that saved your dessert. And holy shit, you about drop everything else.

His eyes, for starters. Blue one moment and then you blink and they're greener. There's something nearly deep about them too, a sparkle but a darkness behind them. You'd kill for lips like his, fuller than any set you've ever seen on a man. They're pulled up into a half grin, one eyebrow cocked to indicate that he knew you were checking him out. "You're welcome," he nearly drawls. His voice carries a heavy accent, and it's not one you can immediately place.

"Oh, um, thanks …"

"Tommy."

"Thanks Tommy." You can feel the blush color your cheeks and have to fight the urge to look away. It's his damn eyes, they're just holding you in place like a damn hypnotist. He smirks, and you're not sure if you want to kiss him or punch him.

"And you're …?"

"You made it!" Pilar's voice carries across her lawn, a laughing lilt to it as she sees all the food that you decided to take along. "I told you that you didn't need to bring anything!" she chirps as she unloads the food from your arms.

"I couldn't help myself!"

"You know where it all goes, Tommy. Come on, come on, there's lots of people to introduce you to!"

That afternoon was a bit of a whirlwind. You hadn't brought beer, not being much of a drinker, but still you found cold bottles in your hand at every turn. Crowds were never really your thing, so you sought solace from the crush in the house for a few minutes, just to be able to breathe. The pictures on the mantel of Pilar, Manny, and the kids make you smile sadly, reminding you of your own far away family. Maria even looks a little like your own niece, cherub cheeks and innocent smiles.

"She's cute, yeah?"

You jump a little and spin around to find yourself facing Tommy again. You'd met quite a few people that day, but none really made much of an impression beyond him. "She looks like my niece," you offer, turning back to the photographs before he can see that you're blushing again.

"I can't wait to have a taste of your pie."

You know what he means, but still the tone of his voice implies something else entirely. You whir to face him again, face red, nearly losing your balance. Stupid beer. "Excuse me?"

He gives a low chuckle, reaching one massively large hand out to steady you. It feels as if his touch is searing your flesh, the sensation so sudden that you jerk your arm out of his hold a stumble backwards, only causing him to chuckle again. "Can I get you another beer then?"

"Asshole," you mutter as you brush past him, suddenly anxious to get back outside and be swallowed by the crowd. You make the mistake of turning back to look at him just once before you disappear. The look he is giving you could set you on fire. Scowling, you make your way into the yard.

Someone has put music on, adding to the party atmosphere, laughter echoing around the yard and accompanied by the occasional shout. Your party mood has been killed by the hulking, sarcastic ass. There's a flash of his white shirt as he enters the backyard, you can see he has a slice of pie on a plate in his hands. He's searching the crowd, for what, you're not sure. And then he locks eyes with you, sending a wink your way before taking a bite and slowly chewing and swallowing. Unconsciously, you swallow at the same time. He may be an asshole, but dammit if he wasn't nice to look at.

"What do you think of Tommy, then?" Pilar hands you another beer as her mouth quips up into a knowing smirk.

You're immediately suspicious. "What did you do, Pilar?"

"He's cute, huh?"

"Yeah, until he opens his mouth."

At that, she laughed. "Tommy's a bit rough around the edges, but he's really a sweetheart. He's the brother Manny never had."

Not wanting to argue, you shrug your shoulders instead, taking a long pull from the beer that your friend brought you. Someone knocks into you at the same time, beer spilling on your dress. You take a step sideways to regain your balance but instead find a divot in the lawn, your right ankle twisting painfully as you fall to the grass.

"Shit, I'm sorry," a gruff masculine voice says as he helps you back to your feet. It's some guy you met earlier, you can't remember his name, but he looks genuinely apologetic. Pilar holds one hand while he holds the other, hoisting you to your feet. You try to stand on your own but when you put weight on that ankle, you nearly collapse onto the ground again. You would if not for the strong hands on your back.

"I gotcha," he murmurs, and you have to fight off the goosebumps his breath on the back of your neck causes.

"You okay, girlie?" Pilar asks, face full of concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm-" You cut yourself off with a grimace when you try to put weight on your foot again.

"I'll get her inside," Tommy tells Pilar as he helps to support your weight as you hobble along. Part of you wants to twist away from his help while another relishes his touch on your waist. He's silent as he assists you, his grip warm on your side. It takes a few minutes but he gets you on the couch, helping you to elevate your foot before disappearing. You try to stand to follow him, go home, something but your ankle is throbbing and the couch is comfortable.

Pilar comes in a moment later, just quietly sitting next to you and leaning against you as her head rests on your shoulder and gives your arm a squeeze. It will become a familiar position in the months to come, one of comfort when you're both lost and lonely. "You okay?" she asks, nudging you a little bit until you grin.

"Fan-freaking-tastic."

Tommy rounds the corner chuckling, holding a towel, presumably full of ice. You're surprised when he gingerly takes your sandal off before placing the washcloth to your skin, the cold feeling good against the pain in your ankle. You don't need to see her to know that Pilar is smirking next to you. "I'm going to get back out to the party. You two going to be okay?"

"We'll be fine," Tommy answers before you can, helping Pilar off the couch before settling in next to you himself. You can't help but roll your eyes when Pilar shoots you a wink before leaving the two of you alone.

"How about that beer then?" Tommy asks. And this time, you can't help but laugh.

* * *

**Please, please review. Even if it's two words like 'love it', it still makes my day.**


	3. Ankle

_The ice melted long before you had finished talking. Once you got past the sarcastic edge to his humor, Tommy was actually pretty easy to talk to. He didn't offer up a lot about himself, but you didn't mind. And as long as he was looking into your eyes and you were getting lost in them, he could probably read the phone book and you'd be happy. Regardless, he still had you clutching your sides in laughter on more than one occasion. Tales of trouble that he and Manny still managed to get up to even in the middle of the desert when they got a hold of some explosives. Of drunken shenanigans before Manny had met Pilar, and how many times they had to talk themselves out of getting arrested. Favorite music and movies, even books._

He keeps his hands to himself, rested on his stomach. But you can tell he's interested from the look in his eye and the curve of his lips. Honestly, you're still kind of wary. There's a darkness there that you can't quite place your finger on. And there are the questions that he casually avoids, obviously a master at changing the subject when it's something he doesn't want to talk about. Like now. "Tell me about your family, then."

Tommy leans forward and pulls the remains of the ice off your ankle, all that's really left is just a moist washcloth. He gingerly moves your foot back and forth, quietly observing for a minute before speaking up. "Looks like the swelling's goin' down. Want to test it out?" You cross your arms across your chest, staring him down until he finally looks up and meets your eye again. "What?"

You roll your eyes and scoot to the edge of the couch, gently pressing your feet to the floor until your right ankle seizes in pain again. "Alright, alright," he soothes as you grimace. "Don't push it."

"I thought you were a grunt, not a medic," you grumble before falling back into the couch and propping your foot up again.

He snorts, shaking his head as he stands before extending his hand out to you. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" You're eyeing his extended hand warily, unsure of his exact plan.

"I'm going to drive you home. You can't with your foot like that."

Any argument dies on your lips at the earnest look on his face. With a sigh, you take his hand, let him get you propped on your good foot and allow him to help you out to the car. You should say goodbye to Manny , Pilar and the kids but the idea of trying to make it out to the backyard with all those people isn't a pleasant one. They'll understand.

His body is ridiculously warm next to yours and you have to tamp down the thrill of having his arm around you yet again. He's patient as he helps you down the stairs and into the passenger side of the car, slipping behind the wheel himself once he's satisfied that you're okay to start the car. You can't help but slap his hand away as he goes to fiddle with the radio. "You might be driving, but it's still my car."

Tommy chuckles, holding both hands up in surrender before looking at you pointedly. It takes you a moment to realize that he's waiting for you to give him directions. "Oh, sorry! Um, go straight, second left on Alleghany." You shake your head softly to try to clear it. His presence is obviously addling you.

You guide him through traffic as he drives, the soft crooning of Sinatra a soundtrack to the otherwise quiet drive. Honestly, you're a little exasperated with the whole thing. You've been taking care of yourself for years now and don't really want the help of a relative stranger now. But he was right, the idea of putting pressure on your ankle to hit the pedals is painful enough to make you wince.

The two of you arrive back at your apartment without incident, Tommy pulling your car into your usual spot. You would have thought him an aggressive driver, but he had been surprisingly careful. It still didn't stop the sigh of relief as he turned the engine off and handed you your keys from the ignition.

You try to exit the car unassisted but he beats you to it, your door open and his hand extended before you can so much as shift in your seat. It's a bit awkward at first, your car sits low to the ground and so it's all strange angles as he helps you up. Accidentally, you put a little pressure on your foot again and wind up falling into his arms. "Sorry!" you gasp, the combined body weight of both of you slamming the car door closed as he presses against you. He is so ridiculously close that you lose your breath and your heart stutters a bit, lingering just a second beyond comfortable before stepping back and helping you to get your feet under you again.

"Which one's yours?" he asks as you limp along the grass and onto the sidewalk leading up to your building.

"Third floor," you groan, immediately thinking of all the fucking stairs you'll have to navigate together. The two of you make an honest effort, manage to make it up a few steps before he huffs out a sigh of impatience and just lifts you into his arms and storms up the stairs, bridal-style. He doesn't put you down when you reach the top, just asks which way to go before following your directions. The fact that he just picked you up like that without consideration of your thoughts should irritate you, but in all honesty, it was pretty cute. "Jesus, you're not even breaking a sweat, are you?" you ask when he gently places you back on your feet in front of your apartment door.

"Takes more than that," he replies with a wink. And the asshole returns.

"Well on that note, thanks, and good night." You fumble with your keys for a minute before the right one slides home, wrist twisting to let you in. But he's not budging. "Good night, Tommy."

There's a heated look in his face when he leans in and you freeze, holding your breath. He's close enough that you can see how long his eyelashes are, just how multi-faceted his eyes are and how dilated his pupils suddenly become. That his own breath is starting to come in heavy pants. He wouldn't.

And he doesn't, just twists the doorknob to let you in, chuckling when you let out your breath when he stands back up straight. "Good night."


	4. Fire

Wherever Tommy disappeared off to, he stays there all morning. You finish your coffee before running to the store for more eggs and a few other sundries. The groceries are put away and then you start to pull out ingredients and utensils, mixing bowls and your KitchenAid. It had been a present from Tommy over a year ago. He knew how much you loved to bake, had seen you drooling over the expensive appliance one day while out shopping for you can't even remember what. And so he got it for you, big shiny pink bow wrapped around it and waiting for you on the kitchen counter when you woke up one day. No reason, no occasion or holiday. He knew you wanted it so he got it for you. That was all the reason he ever really needed.

The thought makes you smile as you hum under your breath, though the undercurrent of anger is still there. How could someone that sweet, that thoughtful be silent for so long? You had sobbed when he left, cried for so many days straight that you had to ask for time off from work. And he had watched you as he walked away, your hands gripping onto his uniform for just one more moment, one more kiss, one more of his touches. How could he be so heartless as to not call, not write, nothing? So what if last night was the first time he told you he loved you? Does that make up for eight months of nothing?

_No_, you think to yourself as you start to measure out ingredients for the pie crust. You briefly consider not even making it, but dismiss the thought almost as soon as you have it. Not just because it usually goes the fastest of all the desserts that you bring when there's a barbeque at the Fernandez's, but because of what it means to Tommy. If you asked him, he'd say that you fell for each other over a pie. Not entirely true. You _met_ over a pie. You only fell for each other after he was an insistent, stubborn ass that wouldn't take no for an answer for a week or two. The memory makes you chuckle, shaking your head as you cut the butter into the rest of the ingredients for the crust.

You bake for the rest of the morning, measuring, mixing, tasting. The anger ebbs and flows, sometimes you're so pissed that you stir a little too hard and something goes flying. Others, it feels like your chest is on fire at the warmth that's settled there because he's home, he's finally home.

_But for how long?_ the voice inside creeps in on you. How long will he stay? His deployment was supposed to be for a year, why is he even back after only eight months? _Shit, he's just on leave._ How infuriating is it that you have to figure that out on your own? And where the fuck is he?

You finish stirring the brownie batter, dump it into the pan and throw the spatula into the sink. _Goddammit._ Where did all of this anger even come from? But you know, deep down. It was there all along. You were just too damn worried to feel it before. You finish off the baking pretty aggressively, clanging and crashing like you'd hear with a bad movie sound effect. Everything is put down with a little too much force, you have to re-measure things, and you have to wipe your eyes with the back of your hands too often to count. "For fuck's sake," you finally mutter before collapsing on the ground in tears.

* * *

You're late. A heave of frustration leaves you as you juggle the desserts you made, thinking you overdid it yet again. You had put off leaving as long as possible in the hopes that Tommy would come home first, but of course he didn't. Words cannot describe how pissed off you are that he's already here, looking three sheets to the wind when you walk in the house with your hands full. He's sitting on the couch, playing a video game with little man, and you don't even acknowledge him. Just breeze past him and start laying the treats you made out in the kitchen while you silently fume.

It's not a surprise when you feel his arms snake around your waist a few minutes later, pressing you against the kitchen counter, his lips on your neck and breath warm on your skin. You shrug him off, or at least attempt to. But he doesn't acknowledge it, just presses against you harder and you hate how fast your pulse thrums at the feeling. Hate how your breath starts to come faster as his hips press against you, his lips working their way up to your ear before taking the lobe in his teeth and gently pulling. "C'mon, babe, I said I was sorry," he whispers throatily, his voice at least an octave lower than usual. God, you missed him, missed this. No one could set you alight like Tommy. No one.

But you're not ready to let him off so easy. You're in the middle of a family barbeque, he wasn't about to lift your skirt up and fuck you in the middle of the kitchen. Though by the feeling of him starting to harden against your ass, he was at least considering it. So you decide to tease him a little, grinding your hips backwards against his until he's groaning softly in your ear. "You know what you're doin' to me, babe?" he breathed, his Pittsburgh accent heavy and drawing a shudder from you. "You know you're playing with fire, right?"

You turn to face him, smirking, legs spreading slightly to accommodate his form between them. "You think you're going to burn me right here, Tommy?"

"Keep toying with me and I might." He pressed against you harder, eliciting a unwanted moan. Angry or not, you were responding to him. And you wanted to smack him for it.

"Uncle Tommy, it's your turn!" little Manny's voice carried from the living room.

He turned his head away, just for a moment, presumably so that the little one could hear him better. "Sorry kid, one sec."

And then his mouth is suddenly on yours for the first time in eight months, desperate, harsh, yanking a whimper from you even though you try to swallow it. Tommy presses against you harder, grips your hips and pulls you against him as he growls, tongue slipping around yours until you're positively light-headed. When he nibbles on your lower lip, you lose it, groaning louder than you mean to as your hips grind against him.

"Uncle TOMM-MMY!"

There's an audible pop as he breaks the suction and pulls his lips away from yours, an unsolicited whimper escaping you at the end of the kiss. He grips your chin and forces you to look into his eyes, the blue/green that you love so much nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils. "Later," he promises, planting one last kiss before pulling away and going back into the living room.

* * *

**A/N - Thanks for sticking with me so far. Please review, they make me do a happy dance. Seriously.**


	5. Date

_Really, you hadn't drank that much beer yesterday. But apparently your body thought you had. You wake with a throbbing headache and a dry throat, a groan leaving you once you realize it's the phone that had woken you. "Hello?" It comes out closer to a croak than anything._

_"Up for some coffee this morning?"_

_Rubbing your eyes, you sit up in bed, fighting off a yawn while you try to place the voice. Really, you need to start checking the caller ID before answering. "Who is this?"_

_"How's that ankle feeling this morning?"_

_"Tommy." It came out closer to a curse than an utterance, but the way he had departed last night left you feeling irritated with him._

_"So about that coffee?"_

_"How did you even get my number?"_

_There's a low, dark chuckle from his end and you hate that it makes your pulse race a little faster. "Pilar. Coffee?"_

_"Not today, Conlon." And at that you hang up. You dangle your legs off the side of the bed for a minute before gently placing pressure on your right foot. It's still painful but not as bad as yesterday, thank goodness. You're about to head to the bathroom to brush some of the taste out of your mouth when your phone rings again. Seriously? It's not even eight in the morning. "Hello?"_

_"What about lunch then?_

_"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"_

_It doesn't even seem to faze him, he just chuckles and continues. "Dinner?"_

_"Tommy, no."_

_"How about some dessert?" His voice drops unexpectedly. "I did enjoy your pie."_

_And at that, you hang up again. You've just started limping to the bathroom when the phone rings again. You're half tempted to throw it across the room, but it was expensive. So instead you groan, limping back to the bed and answering. "Tommy, I swear to God."_

_"I'll stop when you say you'll see me again."_

_"Sure, in hell."_

_His responding laugh is larger, soothing a bit of the irritation that he had been building up inside of you. "Preferably before then."_

_"Tommy." You try to sound stern, but it comes out exasperated instead. He was getting under your skin and he knew it. And apparently enjoyed it._

_"C'mon. One little date?"_

_"I've got shit to do today. I don't have the time or patience to deal with you right now."_

_"So when will you?"_

_"In a few years, maybe. Goodbye, Tommy." You hang up again, having the foresight to put your phone on silent lest it ring again. You stare at it nearly in defiance for a minute, daring it to ring again, before tossing it on the bed and finally heading into the bathroom to brush your teeth._

* * *

_"He just will not take no for an answer!" you complain to Pilar a week later, the two of you chatting on the phone while you measure out some brown sugar for a new recipe you're trying for the barbeque._

_"Probably because we all know you should be saying yes."_

_"Is he going to be there today?"_

_"Um, later, I think. He's got duty." There was a hint of something in her voice, not quite a lie, but something a little disconcerting. She knew something. But you also knew Pilar, and she wasn't going to give it up even if her life depended on it._

_So instead of pushing her, you let it go with a sigh. "Explains why my phone has been quiet for the first time all week."_

_"Why don't you want to go out with him anyway?"_

_"Because yeah, he's sweet sometimes, but usually he's just an asshole, plain and simple."_

_"That's because you gotta know him a little better. It's just his … defense mechanism." And there it was again, that tone._

_"Whose side are you on, Pilar?"_

_"Yours, that's why I think you should say yes."_

_You shake your head, reaching for your hand mixer and yanking it down from the shelf, nearly taking the rest of the appliances with it. "I'll see you at the barbeque."_

* * *

_The party is in full swing when Tommy waltzes in. And you nearly drop your plate. He had apparently been on duty, but had shucked the top portion of his uniform. The olive-colored tee hugged every muscle on his torso, his camouflage pants sitting low on his hips. It actually takes a few tries to get the next bite of burger in your mouth, but you do, trying to cover for the way your jaw had dropped when he entered the yard._

_Briefly, you consider slinking away. But the sight of him half out of uniform holds you in place until his eyes find yours and he nearly struts over with a cocky smile on his face. "Evening, beautiful." He immediately sits next to you on the bench, grabbing a few chips from your plate and tossing them into his mouth._

_It takes a few swallows for you to find your voice again, but you do. "You're something else, you know that Conlon?"_

_"I've been told." Yeah, by you, multiple times. You curse the sharp intake of breath he causes when he leans in, his lips barely brushing against your ear when he speaks again, his voice low. "Bring me any of your pie today?"_

_You pull away from him, narrowing your eyes and scowling. "You're an asshole, you know that?"_

_Tommy looks nearly pleased with himself as he grabs a few more chips from your plate and eats them before leaning back on the bench. "I've been told."_

_You try to speak again but the words fail you. Instead you growl with irritation, pushing your plate into his hands before stomping away. You can feel his eyes on you the entire time, and honestly, you're not surprised that when you turn back to just get a glance at him, he has that same cocky smirk on his face while he finishes your burger. "Asshole," you mutter before heading back to the grill to get another burger._


	6. Tired

_"Goddammit, Tommy, I don't have the patience or energy for this today." Your tone doesn't carry its usual irritation. Mostly, you just sound tired. It's a few days after the latest barbeque and his calls are nearly becoming rote. But you had a shitty day at work and you just can't do this with him, not tonight. You hadn't even changed out of your dressy work clothes yet, just collapsed on the couch and stared at the ceiling for at least an hour before you even considered what you might eat for dinner._

_"What's wrong, babe?"_

_A small part of you wants to bitch at him for using the pet name, but you're too tired to. "Just a shit day, Tommy. Why don't you call back tomorrow, I can tell you no a few more times."_

_He's quiet for a moment or two, probably debating on whether it was worth it to keep pushing you tonight. But to your absolute astonishment, he doesn't. "Alright. Just … feel better, yeah?"_

_"Thanks for listening to me for once, Tommy."_

_"Yeah." And he actually ends the call this time._

_You still haven't budged from the couch another hour later. Your stomach is growling and you know that really, you should eat, but that involves moving and that's just more than you can take right now. There's a knock on the door, finally compelling you to your feet, groaning as you go to look through the peephole. And fuck all if it isn't Tommy._

_You wait for the usual frustrated anger to rise but it surprisingly doesn't. So you open the door with a resigned sigh, a small flutter in your stomach when you see he's still in uniform. Bastard._

_"Tommy, what are you doing here?"_

_He lifts his arms to show they're laden with bags, causing you to lift an eyebrow suspiciously. For once, that cocky exterior isn't there. In fact, he seems almost … nervous? "Just, you sounded like shit, thought you might like some dinner or ice cream or something? I grabbed a movie, too, some girlie shit the lady said that every woman likes. You don't even have to invite me in or anything."_

_With a sigh you open the door, crooking your head so that he'll follow you in. "What's for dinner then?"_

_"I got you a few things, just to be safe," he answers as he comes in behind you, pausing only to shut the door. "Some pasta shit, a salad, a burger, and some kind of fish?"_

_"Covering all the bases, are you?" you ask as you sit on the couch, nodding to the cushion next to you to indicate he should sit. You should probably be eating at the kitchen table, but fuck it._

_"Oh! And, um, I got some pie. Won't be as good as yours, but I figured …"_

_You eye him suspiciously, waiting for the asshole to make an appearance and make some stupid joke about the pie. But he doesn't. Just keeps his head down as he lays out the food for the two of you, picking at a fry every so often. This is the side of him you like, that interests you. If you saw it more often, you might even take him up on those constant offers for a date. "Thanks, Tommy," you whisper softly, shyly smiling at him when he turns to you with a little grin of his own._

_With a little verbal assistance from you, he puts the movie on and you both watch in silence while you eat. It's some romantic bullshit and honestly, it is pretty sweet that he's willing to sit through it with you. Not really your cup of tea, but you weren't about to tell him that. The food goes surprisingly fast, you can't help but be amazed at exactly how much the man can put down. But when you're his size, you probably need a lot of sustenance. And he was right, the pie isn't as good as yours, but it is still pretty delicious with the ice cream._

_Things grow a little awkward once the food is gone, both of you just sitting next to each other on the couch, not really touching. You try to coyly observe him. The crook of one pinky that wouldn't quite straighten as his hands rest against his stomach. The way his pants fit around his thighs. The roll of his jaw as he tongues the toothpick that had magically appeared, and the hint of a 5 o'clock shadow that dusts his face. "You actually going to watch the movie?" he mumbles, a hint of that smirk that you can't decide if you love or hate._

_"Actually, it's shit."_

_He throws his head back and laughs, causing you to respond with your own smile. "Glad I'm not the only one that thinks so."_

_"Can we please shut this off then?" you manage to get out between giggles, Tommy nodding his head in agreement. You can't help but admire his ass as he crouches in front of the DVD player, retrieving the movie and putting it back in its case._

_"So what now then?" he asks as he stands, cocking one eyebrow at you._

_You shake your head and laugh. "You are impossible."_

_He sits back down on the couch, spinning you so that he can yank your feet into his lap. And then suddenly he's digging his fingers into the arches of your feet before you can even protest. A nearly embarrassing groan escapes you, but you don't even care, it just feels so damn good. And then you have the thought of what else his hands might be able to do and you have to squeeze your thighs together inconspicuously before he can notice. "Feeling better then?"_

_"God, yes." It comes out lower and more throaty than intended, a sudden blush coloring your cheeks._

_You can see him shift a little bit in his seat as he chuckles. "Good." The apartment is silent as he continues the foot rub and you can't help but let your eyes close and head fall back at the pleasure and relief it's bringing you. "How about that date then?"_

_Looking back, you're not sure if it was the food, the foot massage, or just how sweet he had been to you that night. But that time, you said yes._

* * *

**A/N - Thanks for reading gang, and please, please review!**


	7. Apologies

You and Pilar are tucked into your own little corner of the yard, drinking wine and chatting, observing the party. The change in her since Manny came home is immediately noticeable. Briefly, you wonder if she knows how long they'll be here before they get shipped off again, but you decide not to ask. You don't want to be the one to bring her down from the high of having her husband home.

The undercurrent of anger you've been carrying all day has mellowed somewhat. For one, you don't know how long he'll be home. And you don't want to waste that time just railing against him. And for another thing, watching him play tag with Maria, while she giggles and runs away, would melt even the biggest cynic's heart. You can't help the smile that curves your lips when he catches her, picking her up and twirling her until she's laughingly shrieking at him to stop.

"He'll be a good dad, someday," Pilar watches with a grin, nudging into your side before laughing. You can't help but shake your head. It's the last thing on your agenda right now. Tommy is blowing raspberries into Maria's stomach, whispering in her ear before turning his back on her and hiding his face. Other adults are littering the yard, but they go ignored by the playful duo, Maria scrambling through legs to run to her mother.

"Mom, mom, I'm hiding!"

Pilar scoops her up in her arms and nuzzles her. "You're not doing a very good job of it, mija."

You can all see Tommy uncover his eyes from where you sit, so Maria lets out a little shriek and scurries behind the two of you on the bench. Tommy must have heard it because his head immediately swivels your way. He takes his time crossing the yard, an amused grin playing on his lips the entire way until he's halted in front of the three of you. "You two seen Maria?" he queries, the innocence of his voice plainly put on.

"No, don't know where mija's gotten to," Pilar pipes in.

"Sorry, Tommy," you reply back, heart fluttering when he turns his smile back on you. Maria is trying to quiet her giggling behind your back, her little hands resting on the small of it. But right now, Tommy only has eyes for you. His gaze is hot enough to nearly burn you and you can't help but lick your lips, anticipation pooling in your stomach. You have a sudden urge to leave the barbeque early.

"I'll see if I can find her then," he mocks with a wink before wandering off. Maria giggles once more before shooting off in the other direction.

"You're in trouble," your friend laughs with a nudge when your gaze follows Tommy around the yard. "Eight months? Pfft. You're not even going to make him wait eight hours."

* * *

The drive home is relatively silent, Tommy driving but still keeping his hand on your thigh. Sometimes he squeezes it, others just rubs his thumb back and forth, nerve endings on your body lighting on fire with each movement. You half want him to pull over now, just so you can climb on his lap and show him exactly how much you've missed him. But it's not happening, not before you two can really talk. Or at least, you talk and he listens.

It's difficult to hold onto that thought though, for as soon as your out of the car he's pressing you against it, his lips urgent on yours until you're panting for breath. He trails kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking hard enough that you start to worry about hickeys. "Tommy …" you moan, thoughts already starting to addle as he presses you harder against the car.

"Do you have any idea how long eight months is?" he growls into your jaw, hands already starting to bruise your hips from holding them so tightly.

And that snaps you right back into reality, awakens your anger with him again. You push Tommy off, or try to at least. It seems to take him a moment to register your hands pushing against his shoulders before he steps back and looks at you so intensely, your breath catches. "I know exactly how long eight months is. Do you know how long it is when I don't fucking hear from you? When I'm awake half the night, having nightmares, worried about you, wondering about you?" At that, you storm up the stairs to the apartment, not even waiting to see if he follows.

"Babe," he calls out, catching up to you on the second flight of stairs, his grip hard on your forearm while he spins you around. "I said I'm sorry."

You wretch your arm from his grasp, stomping back up the stairs again, unsurprised when his heavy footsteps follow yours. He catches up to you again as you approach your door, spinning you around and kissing you, pressing you against it. You try to fight him, hit him, Tommy only releasing you when you bite down on his lower lip, hard. "The fuck?"

"You think 'sorry' is enough to make up for the shit you put me through, Conlon?"

His forehead wrinkles, eyes squinch up a bit as he considers it. "Maybe? Kinda."

You stomp your foot in frustration, an angry noise of frustration echoing through the hall as you spin to open the door to the apartment. Tommy follows you inside, pushing you up against the entryway wall as soon as the door closes, lips skimming the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Just let me explain, alright?"

You have to stop yourself from arching against him. Despite your anger, you still want him, miss the feel of his hands on you, the bruises he used to leave, the way he would set you on fire. "Alright."

"I love you," he whispers into your collarbone, his lips trailing heat across your skin and sending shivers up your spine at both his words and his actions. "I realized it, when I left. It was the next thing I wanted to tell you." He starts pulling the straps of your dress down your arms, and you're powerless to resist. "I didn't want to send it in an email, or over the phone, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to look into your eyes when I said it."

"But-"

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours, looking nearly afraid. "I love you."

You feel like you're melting, a puddle on the floor. All the anger you were holding on to evaporates. The look he is giving you is so intense, you're amazed you're still upright. "I love you too, Tommy."

* * *

**A/N - Please, please review!**


End file.
